


Layovers Aren't THAT Bad

by SierraWood



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Lol I'm bad at tags, M/M, Misunderstanding, Where's the note, airlines, pilots au, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraWood/pseuds/SierraWood
Summary: Naples left a bitter taste in Arthur Kirkland's mouth, but when Alfred Jones comes waltzing back into his life, Arthur isn't quite sure what to do.





	Layovers Aren't THAT Bad

**November 24, 2011**  

"Flight 263 to London is boarding now. Flight 263 to London is boarding now."  

Arthur Kirkland, a pilot for British Airways, had just come off the plane that was flying back to London. Now, he was walking against Terminal 8’s foot traffic to Terminal 4 where he would board a Delta plane and fly, pas a passenger, to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. He glanced around him. The airport's walls were plain for the most part but every so often he would walk by an airline ad. ‘Why did I agree to do that one ad,’ Arthur asked himself as he ducked his head while walking by a British Airways ad with his face on it. He passed a few other ads, at least three of Francis Bonnefoy, an AirFrance pilot. As he was turning down the Terminal towards his gate he heard the airport’s intercom come on. 

“Flight 678 to Dallas boarding now. Flight 678 to Dallas board- ~~ Arthur, we have the same flight! Can’t wait to see you! Oh, and remember all you beautiful people, fly AirFrance whenever you want to visit the city of love, Paris! Au revoir et bon voyage!” 

 _‘Oh, god, the bloody frog is on my flight,’_ Arthur thought as he entered the line to board his flight, _‘How does he know? Every time, he know. How?”_   

“Have a great flight sir,” the stewardess said scanning his ticket. 

“Thank you, have a nice day,” he said walking down the jet bridge.  

He boarded the Delta plane and was directed to his seat in first class. Just as he was expecting, Francis was sitting across the aisle, but in the row behind his  

 _‘Well, it could be worse,’_ Arthur thought as he put his carry on in the overhead, ignoring Francis’ calls to him, _‘But if he’s here, more than likely so are the others.’_  

The ‘others’ that he was referring to were seated shortly after he took his seat next to the window. Looking around he saw Yao, a pilot for AirChina, in the seat behind him. Across from him, were the Vargas brothers, Lovino and Feliciano, pilots for Alitalia. In front of him was Berwald and Tino, KLM pilots. Francis was sitting next to Antonio, one of Air Europa’s pilots. Sighing, Arthur sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, tuning out the rustle of the boarding passengers. 

“Dude, is that you Arthur,” a voice to Arthur’s right asked.  

Opening one eye, Arthur looked over and saw who he was to be sitting with, “Alfred Jones, long time, no see.” 

The American Airlines pilot softened his gaze. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly sitting down next to the Brit  

“Have you really,” Arthur asked opening both his eyes, hurt and anger filled them, “Or are you hoping for another Naples of ‘09?” His tone was slightly biting, but he didn’t care. To Arthur, Alfred deserved it. 

“Dude, Arthur, I mean it. I really have missed you,” the American smiled at him, his blue eyes shining from sea to shining sea. 

Arthur huffed, “I’ll believe it when I believe it.” He crossed his arms and turned to stare out the window. 

Alfred sighed and deflated slightly, “Alright, but I have. I really have.” 

Arthur wanted to believe Alfred. He really did. His heart wanted him to believe Alfred. But Naples had left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, in more ways than one. And he was hesitant to give anything else to Alfred that would let the other pilot into his heart.   

“Uh, excuse me, um... h-hello,” a soft voice over the com was trying to start.  

“Oh! Dudes! Shut up a moment! Matthew is trying to speak,” Alfred perked up and shouted to the other pilots.  

“Uh, thank you for flying Delta. This is your captain, err - pilot, speaking. I’m Matthew Williams. This flight is going from London to Paris... I mean New York to Dallas. Uh-”  

“This is your co-pilot Carlos Machado. Williams and I ask that you please take your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and listen to the beautiful and handsome flight attendants who will go through the basic safety instructions as well as what to do in case of an emergency. Thank you for flying Delta.” 

The com turned off and everyone faced the flight attendants who were doing their demos of how to work the seat belts and where the exits were. Soon the plane was taxiing down the runway and taking off.  

“Smooth take off. Good Matthew, good,” Alfred muttered to himself in the seat next to Arthur.  

“When did your brother got his license,” Arthur asked.  

“Uh, a year ago. Mom and dad are proud. Two pilots in the family,” Alfred said softly.  

Things were quiet between them as the plane made it’s climb. Arthur felt the plane level out and saw the seat belt sign go off. Sighing, he undid his seat belt and stretched a little. He decided the four hour flight would be more bearable if he wasn’t in a suit.   

“So, going home,” Arthur asked the American.  

“Yeah, I’m getting back from a month overseas. You would think American Airlines would know how not to get me stranded in Berlin for a week. Plus, I’ve been flying the same three routes for the past three weeks, NYC to LAX, LAX to Toronto, Toronto to NYC. Time to go home.”  

“Got a girlfriend you left behind,” Arthur asked wincing after he realized what he had said.  

“Uh, no,” Alfred chuckled lightly, “You of all people know I bat for the other team.”  

“Yes, yes, I know. Slip of the tongue. Though you do realize that you can come right out and say it. Not like the other pilots around you are like the American pilots you probably come in contact with everyday.”  

“True, true. I’m so used to the other pilots picking out a stewardess to ‘bang’ as they put it,” Alfred said thoughtfully looking up, "The other American Airlines pilots aren't so bad, but they can be real pigs when they haven't gotten any."  

Arthur sighed and turned to look out the window. All he saw were the clouds passing by with the plane's wings throwing shadows over them. He wanted back into the cockpit. He loved flying. He loved the freedom and the beauty that could be seen from the pilot's seat. Once one was away from the airport and 30,000 feet up, there wasn’t anything else, except the sky, for miles.  

"So," Alfred's voice snapped him from his thoughts, "What about you?"  

Arthur glanced behind him and looked at the American. "I'm going to Dallas to pilot a plane to Dublin. I'll only be in Dallas for one night, so early tomorrow morning, I'm leaving."  

A spark of something entered Alfred's eye, Arthur knew what the American was thinking and immediately put his foot down, “No Jones, I plan on going straight to bed, alone. I need sleep, it’s a twelve hour flight to Dublin.”  

“Oh, come on Artie,” Alfred whined, “Naples was fun.”  

“Ohhh~ Talking about Naples. I remember that. Oui, Arthur, you and monsieur Jones had a little bit of, eh, fun. No?” Francis decided right then to jump into their conversation.  

Blushing furiously, Arthur glared at the Frenchman, “N-no! You frog, go bother someone else! No one asked you!”  

“Sigh, you wound me Kirkland. I suppose I could go see if Mathieu wants to, oh relax a little while we are in the air,” Francis gave Alfred a wink and sashayed off towards the cockpit.  

Taking a moment to let it all sink in, Alfred was soon out of his seat darting off towards the cockpit yelling after Francis, “Hey! Don’t defile my brother in the air! Not cool man!” Arthur stared after them wondering about the scene they’re bound to cause up front.  

“Haha, you would think they would have some sense of subtlety, huh?” a voice next to him chuckled.  

Arthur looked over at the person now occupying Alfred’s seat. It was Yao Wang. The Chinese man looked to be amused.  

“Yes, you would think that, but they are a bunch of children, so I have come to lower my standards of maturity,” Arthur sighed, resigned to the fact that his international coworkers were a bunch of children. 

“Haha, right you are.”  

Arthur gazed curiously at Yao, finally he asked, “Where’s Kiku?”  

Kiku Honda was a pilot for Japan Airlines. He and Yao met back in 2000 in Tokyo while they were both on a layover. In 2001, they met again when they were both stranded in Seoul. The two bonded and have been in a long distance relationship ever since, spending every second they could together.  

“I’m meeting him in Dallas. He’s flying in from LAX and we are both on leave so we thought, why not meet in the middle,” Yao gazed off dreamily at the thought of his Japanese boyfriend. 

“Well, I hope you have a nice vacation together. Do you happen to know where everyone else is going,” he asked suddenly curious why most of the other foreign pilots he knew were on the same flight. Looking around, Arthur thought first class looked like the UN. 

“Well, Francis is supposed to pilot a plane to Vancouver. Berwald and Tino are coming back from a vacation that they spent together. They are picking up a couple of planes to take back to Amsterdam Airport Schiphol. Feliciano is meeting Ludwig and Gilbert in Houston, he’s flying into Dallas because his brother was going to Dallas and you know how Feli is, can’t get enough time with his brother. As for Antonio and Lovino, well, they are dating now and this the first time they have seen each other in three months. Both have a little time before getting on their planes and flying off for two more months, so they have a nice hotel room booked in Dallas and well, you know what happens next.” 

Arthur was suddenly wishing he hadn’t asked, but was happy for his coworkers. They all were dating within their circle of pilots, so their significant others all understood and knew how to work the long-distance relationship thing.  

“What the rest of us are wondering is what you and Alfred are going to do with your time,” Yao asked with a slightly cheeky look on his face. 

Arthur went red again, “Nothing! He’s going home. I’m checking into a hotel for one night, then getting up at an ungodly hour to fly a plane to Dublin.” 

Yao chuckled, “You ought to talk to him about Naples again. Two hearts were broken that day. Two hearts that shouldn’t have been broken, but were.” The other pilot moved back to his seat as a blushing Alfred finally made it back to his seat. 

“Dude, did you know my brother and Francis were dating? And that they have already, christened at least two of the AirFrance jets? Dude, I hate Delta,” Alfred said deciding to glare at the Delta logo in front of him. 

“Uh, I didn’t, but now I do. So, thank you for that. And at least two? That doesn’t sound like Francis at all. At least five is more like it,” Arthur said internally laughing at the glaring American. 

“Oh, man. Five! Are you kidding me?! I really hate Delta,” Alfred declared flopping back into his seat. 

Arthur smirked, “Relax, while Francis knows how to christen the planes, you are on a Delta plane so get over it. Can’t change anything now. By the way, why are you on this flight. You could have gotten a discount to fly home on American.” 

Alfred sat up and turned to face Arthur, “Because of two reasons. One, I wanted to fly with my brother piloting. Two, you were on this flight.” 

“Wh-what me,” Arthur stuttered, “How did you even know that?” 

“Matthew called me when he saw who all had booked the flight. He knew I had wanted to see you again, so he called me when he pulled a few strings to check who all was flying,” Alfred shrugged.  

“Of course, you wanted to see me. Naples left you wanting more, not sure if I’ll let you have more,” Arthur bristled building up defenses. He turned away from Alfred and stared out the window again. 

“Two hearts, Arthur,” Yao whispered in his ear, “Two hearts.”  

Arthur looked over at the suddenly sulking American.  

“Oi, what are you sulking for,” Arthur said annoyed.  

“Dude, you don’t quite understand.”  

“I understand just fine. I was drunk. I said things while I was drunk. You took advantage. I remember being sweet talked and then going back to your room.” Arthur huffed and started to turn away again.  

Alfred tried to speak again, “Look, Arthur-”  

“And then what happened,” Arthur was steadily raising his voice, “We talked and we talked until I was sober. It was the nicest thing that had ever happened to me.”  

“I didn’t want you drunk-”  

“Because then I wouldn’t remember how skilled you are in bed. But because I was sober, I remember, and it was one of the best nights of my life!”  

“Then why are you so upset?”  

“Because I woke up and you were gone!!!” 

“I had an early flight to pilot!”

“I didn’t know and you never told me!” 

“I left a note!” 

“I saw NOTHING!”  

Arthur was out of his seat and towering over Alfred. Looking up he saw the other pilots staring and blinking back at him. The flight attendants were all standing around stunned. All he heard was silence throughout the whole plane even in economy. He was breathing heavily and could feel his face going red. Taking a breath to calm himself, he collected himself and sat back down in his seat.  

“Look,” Arthur said wondering if he was going to regret the can of worms he was opening, “I guess we left some loose ends.”   

“Loose ends, you could say that. I tried to not leave any ends untied,” Alfred’s voice was soft and quiet, afraid Arthur would be set off again. 

Unfortunately, Arthur still flew off the handle, “Tried to not leave any loose ends?! I woke up and you were gone! There was no note! There was nothing! Just me, alone, in a hotel room, feeling cheap, used, and foolish. All those years of knowing each other, thrown out the window in one night. As far as I’m concerned, as of right now, we are just mere acquaintances, who happen to run into one another a lot.”  

Alfred’s expression hardened into something unreadable to Arthur. “I see,” he said, his tone matching his expression, “Never mind, Kirkland, I suppose I was mistaken.” He turned and faced the front of the plane, finishing the wall that had been steadily building between them.  

Arthur sighed and turned to look out the window and watch the clouds go by. They had around two hours left in the air. Two hours that would be spent in silent tense air. Arthur knew that he had pushed Alfred over a line, and that he would most likely regret it later. 

“I really did leave a note. You weren’t just a one-night stand Kirkland,” Alfred’s stony voice broke the silence, “Not to me. I KNOW I left a note. The fact that you never found it, tells me you never looked. I would have never just left you Kirkland, I wouldn’t do that to you. But I had to, and I made SURE that I left you something. You just never looked.” From the corner of his eye, Arthur watched Alfred pull out his iPod and put on his headphones, effectively ending any and all communication between him and Arthur. 

The rest of the flight for Alfred and Arthur was spent in silence. Arthur swore he heard Yao sigh a few times and knew that the Chinese man was shaking his head with disappointment. Finally, the plane landed and everyone went their separate ways. Francis to Vancouver. The KLM pilots to Amsterdam. Yao and Kiku found each other in baggage claim and had gone to their hotel. Arthur went to his hotel, and Alfred went home to his apartment. 

* * *

  **February** **23, 2012**  

 

It was another three months before he saw Alfred again. Arthur was in Norway for a layover. He was supposed to be taking the plane back to Aberdeen in Scotland. The layover was three hours, so he was wandering through the airport to stretch his legs. He stopped in front of an airport store window and smiled to himself when he saw miniatures of trolls and Viking ships. He looked up at the shop’s wall and saw more Viking merchandise. He had always found other cultures interesting, it was why he had become a pilot. He wanted to visit places and see the world and fly. _‘That’s something Alfred and I both shared, a love for other cultures and flying,’_ he thought to himself. Shaking his head to clear away thoughts of the American, Arthur sighed and stepped into the shop.  _‘I never did get anything from Norway the few times I’ve been able to stop here. Might as well get a ship or something, the trolls are kind of freaky,’_ Arthur thought going over to the hand carved ships. He gazed at them lovingly, each one seemed to tell its own story. He settled on a Dragon-ship that reminded him of Lukas, a Norwegian Airlines pilot. After making his purchase and leaving the shop, the ship tucked safely in its box. He made his way back to the gate so he could be closer to the plane. He was looking at one of the British Airway’s ads of Allistor, a pilot he had co-piloted with in the past, when he nearly collided with someone.  

“Whoa! Dude! Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” said a man as he was getting off the floor.  

 _‘That voice, that accent. It sounds familiar,’_ Arthur thought as he replied, “That’s quite alright. I was just standing in the middle of the terminal.” The man finally lifted his head and he was met with a pair of blue as sapphire eyes and light blond hair. “Alfred,” Arthur said realizing who it was. 

The American stiffened and steely said, “Arthur. Layover in Norway?”  

“Uh, yeah,” Arthur said, “You?”  

“I have a few hours until I have to fly back to the states. Just came from San Francisco flying a nonstop to here.”  

“Oh, that’s always fun.” 

“Yeah. What’s in the box,” Alfred asked nodding to Arthur’s package. He had loosened up a little, but was still on defense.  

“A ship. I never get anything when I’m here and I usually make a point to bring something home whenever I go to a new place. I’ve been here like five times and never get anything. So I saw the ships and found one I liked.”  

“I’ve got a troll statue on my fireplace mantle from the first time I came here. Oswald watches the place while I’m gone.”  

“I’ve got a Shisa from Japan on my mantle. Faris keeps watch and guards the tea,” Arthur laughed lightly.  

“You and your tea,” Alfred said glancing up at the ad Arthur had looked at, “Hey, next time you are in LAX, next to the Starbucks in Terminal 3, there’s the new American Airlines ad. Check it out, okay?”  

“Yeah sure,” Arthur said glancing at his watch, “Hey Alfred...”  

Looking up, he saw the American was gone. _‘When he want’s to be quiet, he’s quiet.’_ Looking back at his watch, Arthur saw he had ten minutes till boarding. Turning, he continued on down the terminal and to his gate. He passed a large fern and once he was past, a figure stepped out from behind it.  

“Fly safe, Artie.”  

* * *

  **April 19, 2012**  

 

“Finally,” Arthur breathed, opening the door to his flat, “I’m home.” Arthur finally stepped foot into his little London flat after being away for five months. He had flown the plane to Dublin, got it refueled and then flew it to LAX. British Airways had decided to give him a short three-day break in LA before sending him to Australia, Norway, Italy (not Naples), France (Francis was in London at the time, which Arthur was grateful for), and then a series of routes to the US and back to somewhere in the UK. He had run into Alfred a few times during those months. After Norway he saw Alfred a few more times across the US, the two were slowly mending their friendship. Now, he was tired and just wanted a cup of tea and a scone.   

After setting his bags down, Arthur did a quick walk through around his flat, a habit he developed after Francis had decided that breaking in and staying there for a night and moving things around was something that was completely fine as long as he locked up when he left. Satisfied, he made himself some tea and sat down at his table. Flipping through his mail, Arthur let his mind wander off and followed where it would take him.  

 _‘Two hearts were broken that day. Two hearts that **shouldn’t**  have been broken but were,’_ Yao’s words floated through his mind.  

 _'Two hearts,'_ he though,  _‘I know my own heart was broken, but who else’s? Alfred’s? Please, he left. Said that he left a note, but I never saw one.’_  

 _‘I_ ** _KNOW_** _I left a note. The fact that you never found it, tells me you never looked,’_  Alfred’s words cut through his mind, just as clear and hardened as the day he had said them. 

 _'Sure, pin it on me. I saw nothing and I left to catch my own flight,’_  Arthur shot back to the Alfred in his mind.  

 _‘I made_ **_SURE_ ** _that I left you something. You just never looked.’_  

 _'That never looked thing again,’_  Arthur sighed into his teacup,  _‘I still maintain that I never saw anything.’_  

'The fact that you never found it tells me you never looked.’ 

 _'I saw nothing,’_ Arthur raged in his head. 

 _'Never found it. Never looked.’_  

 _‘I. Saw.’_  “Nothing!” Arthur shouted to his empty flat. “Nothing,” he said softly, “Nothing at all. I saw nothing. Two hearts broken? Yao, you weren’t even there. I never looked? Alfred, I looked on the table, the night stand, in the bathroom, on the door, there wasn’t anything. Never found it. If it exists, then where is it?” Arthur stood up and placed his teacup and saucer in the sink and grabbed his suitcase to go unpack, muttering to himself as he walked into his bedroom. 

 _'Never saw it. No note. Two hearts. Never looked. What does that even mean? I looked. Never found it. What was it supposed to be a scavenger hunt?'_ He went in circles with his thoughts while he unpacked and finally stopped when he went to put away his suitcase.  

Opening his closet door to put away his suitcase, something stuffed in the back of the closet caught his eye, something that he hadn’t laid an eye on since 2009. It was a simple navy suitcase. To anyone else, it was just another piece of luggage. But for Arthur it was a piece of a painful memory. It was the suitcase he had with him in Naples. It was the suitcase that was in the room when he and Alfred shared that one night together. He had come home two weeks later and stuffed it in the back of his closet after pulling out his clothes that had to be washed. He bought a new two tone dark brown and tan suitcase that night. Since then, whenever he came home, he tried to not look in that corner. But for some reason, he was pulling the piece of navy luggage out from the dark corner and into the light.  

Sitting cross legged in the middle of his floor, Arthur stared at the suitcase. He wanted to glare at the poor thing but couldn’t bring himself to, so he stared at it. The two of them sat in his room in silence for ten minutes before Arthur sighed and reached out to unzip it after so many years... okay it had only been two years, but if felt like twenty. As he unzipped the suitcase, Alfred’s words came back and filled his mind again,  _‘The fact that you never found it, tells me that you never looked.’_   

 _‘Two hearts,’_  came Yao’s voice as he flipped the lid open.  

“Nothing,” Arthur said looking in, “Absolutely nothing.”  

He sat, gazing into the empty case, for a while. Finally, he decided enough was enough, and as he was bringing the lid back down to close the case, he paused.  _‘I don’t remember that pocket being unzipped,’_  he thought reaching up with his other hand.  

He slid his hand into the opening and felt around. That’s when he felt something. Something that was thin and rough. He grasped it with his fingers and pulled the foreign objects out.  

 _‘Could this be it? Did he actually leave me a note? A note that I never found,’_ Arthur asked himself looking down at the paper.  

He read it off to himself, “People Magazine- $4.50. Trident Gum- $1. 20oz bottled water- $5.25. Fleece blanket- $15.00. This is a receipt. A receipt for over-priced airport things.” He groaned and put the paper face down on his floor. He decided that the other pockets were worth a look and found nothing else. Wondering where on earth the note was, he put the suitcase away again. He glanced at the long strip of paper that was now face down on his floor. Staring up at him was the scrawl of a hurried American, an American named A. Jones.   

Arthur picked up the paper again and took it into his living room. Sitting down on his couch with a notepad, he turned on a lamp and worked on deciphering what the note said. 

 _‘Bloody hell, Jones. One would think you were a doctor with this handwriting.’_   

Finally, he deciphered it and looked down at what he had written down. 

 

Artie, 

Sorry for leaving so early. Piloting a one way to NYC. 

Only paper I could find. Again sorry. Had fun.  

Wish I didn’t have to go. Wanted to tell u somethin 

Prefable in person. Tell u through note instead. 

I love you Arthur Kirkland. 

 

Call me: 678-364-8224 

 

Seriously Artie. I really do love you. Plez call. Or text. Or leave a message. 

Fly Safe, A. Jones

 

Arthur leaned back into the couch, rereading the only words on the note that should have jumped out at him in the first place,  _I love you Arthur Kirkland_. Arthur read and reread that same line, the meaning of the words not actually sinking in. He heard his mini grandfather clock chime and snapped out of his daze. The Brit’s green eyes widened as the words finally sunk in. ‘ _Bloody hell,_ ’ he thought, ‘ _The twat loves me_.’ At this point, Arthur would have loved to say that he called Alfred immediately to let him know that he finally found the note and would fly out to see the American wherever he was on the earliest flight he could catch. However, he didn’t do that. Instead, Arthur continued to sit on his couch, staring wide eyed at the wall. He sat there for a full hour, unmoving, muttering, “He loves me,” to himself over and over. His clock chimed at the top of the hour again, the noise causing Arthur to jump and give a squeak in surprise. After he had caught his breath, Arthur looked back at the note and dashed off to grab his own cell phone. He had no plans to call Alfred right then, but did enter the number into his phone, using the picture Alfred had taken of himself when he had stolen Arthur’s phone during their fifth meeting during a layover in Switzerland back in 2007.   

Both of them had been full fledged pilots for two years at the time. They, as well as the other international pilots they were friends with and knew, sans Yao and Kiku, had gone to flight school together. After they all passed and everyone went their separate ways, none of them knew that they would run into each other so often. It was 2004 when they finished flight school, back when they were 21. Now, they were 28, and had history, lots of history, and baggage.   

Arthur had gotten together with Francis in 2005, after a (few) night(s) of passion in Paris during a snowstorm and had been grounded for a week. At the time, Arthur thought he had found “the one,” he had always been a closet romantic. Francis had brought the romance and he opened up and fell for it. But it was on a layover in Quebec that changed everything.   

It was December in 2007, the skies were clear and the runways were deiced, Arthur was walking into baggage claim where he had planned to meet Francis. Francis was there, flirting with anyone who would give him the time, but it was his usual harmless flirting. Arthur wasn’t too concerned, until the small Canadian showed up. Arthur was about to call out to Francis to let him know he was there, but stopped when he saw how Francis lit up at the sight of a small blond Canadian that Arthur thought looked vaguely familiar. He watched Francis chat excitedly to the other man. ‘ _He never looks this excited and happy when he talks to me_ ,’ Arthur thought. He wasn’t sure if he was mad or crushed at the sight. Finally, he saw Francis give the man a hug in good bye and just like that, the Canadian was gone. He waited another five minutes before making his way over to the Frenchman. He knew what he saw and knew it was a matter of time before Francis decided that he wanted the Canadian more than Arthur. So that night, at his hotel after dinner with the AirFrance pilot, Arthur broke up with Francis and never looked back. When he piloted a plane back to London the following morning, he ran into Alfred, a friendly face he hadn’t seen in a few months. Alfred was going to be in London for a couple of nights, and Arthur offered him a place to stay. That night, Arthur bared his soul to the American about Francis and the normally eccentric man had listened and comforted him when he broke down in tears. Once Arthur had calmed down enough, Alfred told him that the Canadian that seemed to have Francis’ heart was in fact his half brother, Matthew Williams. He said that Matthew had called him a few months ago raving about a Frenchman he met at a small coffee shop in Quebec, he never thought it was Francis.  

“He never actually cheated on you Arthur,” Alfred said, “He just met Matt and they hit it off. Matthew told me himself that Francis never romanced him or made any moves, he was just a nice guy he talked to over coffee.”  

This had only sent Arthur into further tears. The fact that Francis and Matthew had fallen for each other without flirting or anything that would suggest anything made Arthur realize that his relationship with Francis was barely a relationship. Sure, they knew each other and talked to one another, but really they were just in each other’s lives like a vase on a table, just there. That was their seventh meeting.  

Over the time span of the next year and a half, they continued to run into each other, each run in resulting in their friendship blooming and feelings evolving. There wasn’t any flirting, no romance, just them being themselves with each other, and Arthur grew to love it and the energetic American Airlines pilot he was friends with. But everything had crumbled in June of 2009, in Naples, Italy.   

“Now, here I am. Two years later, with the note that ruined everything,” Arthur said to himself, “What do I do now?”  

After another two hours of pacing his flat, Arthur finally sucked it up and sent a text to Alfred. 

 

 **_You twat. You should know by now that I don’t use or check the pockets on or in my suitcase. You should have taped it on the mirror or stuffed it in my shoe. - AK._ **  

 

It was after he hit send that he realized that he had no idea where in the world the American was.  

‘ _Where in the world is Alfred Jones? Alfred would be amused,_ ’ Arthur thought to himself looking down at his phone.  

He had fallen asleep draped across his couch when his phone buzzed. Groggily grabbing his phone, he felt his heart speed up as his eyes adjusted and focused on the notification. Unlocking his phone, he checked the new message from Alfred. 

 

 **_So, you finally found it. Took you long enough. I’m in_ ** **_Detroit_ ** **_right now, just landed. I want to talk to you Arthur. I want to see you. But I don’t think I’ll be landing anywhere to stay for a while anytime soon. You know the job. I’ll see you next time we run into each other. - AJ_ **  

 

Arthur was slightly crushed. He had hoped that luck would be on his side and that Alfred would be flying into London soon. But unfortunately, luck didn’t care. What he didn’t know that somewhere outside of London in Essex, was Alfred Jones, curled up on his hotel bed not sure what he wanted at that point and trying to work out how he would react next time he saw Arthur. Yao had been right when he had told Arthur that two hearts had been broken in Naples. Now, it seemed that those same two hearts would either be broken again or made whole again. 

* * *

**June** **25, 2013**  

 

A year passed and Arthur and Alfred didn’t meet again for a long time. Sure, they ended up in the same city from time to time, but neither of them knew it. Alfred would be flying domestic flights at times, so they would be on opposite sides of the airport. Other times, Arthur would be flying out just as Alfred was flying in. Once they landed and took off at relatively the same time, Alfred flew off towards Quebec from Chattanooga and two minutes later Arthur was landing in Chattanooga. They would both look for the other sometimes. Arthur would go to the American Airlines baggage claim area and wait an hour and Alfred would do the same at the British Airways section. Eventually they found each other again, in the place where their problems started, Naples.   

“Flight 29, New York to Naples, disembarking now. Benvenuti a Napoli.”  

“Flight 782 from London to Naples is now disembarking. Benvenuti a Napoli.”  

Terminal B International was filled with passengers coming off their flights. Flight 29 had made great time coming from New York and was ahead of schedule. After circling for five minutes, Air Traffic Control told Alfred he could land on strip N3 and dock at Gate 16 since to his scheduled spot was occupied by the flight that was supposed to leave before he got there. Flight 782 was delayed due to a pileup of sorts at the London airport. A few too many planes were trying to take off at once and longer flights got priority over the shorter distances. After trading insults with the Air Traffic Controller, Arthur was able to land on strip N5 and dock at Gate 17 since his spot had to be used to load passengers on another flight. Both of the planes they were flying had the same number of passengers and disembarked relatively at the same pace. Both pilots did their post flight sweep of the planes and logged the flight. Both of them rushed up the tunnel from their planes and slid into place at the desk at the same time.  

“Flight 29. Checking in. Refuel might be needed. Left engine sounded slightly off, but I might be paranoid.”  

“Flight 782. Checking in. Refuel definitely needed, bloody idiots in London told me to just keep her running and that we would be off in five minutes. Five minutes my arse, took two hours. Two bloody hours on idle, but would they let me turn her off? No, clearly the pilot knows nothing and random desk people, no offense, know everything.”  

They spoke at the same time to the poor lady at the desk. Her desk partner was snickering in the back, he was just going on break just as the two pilots hit the desk.  

“I, uh, yes. Ok. Flight 729, bloody engines, refuel. Wait that’s not right. Uh, could you repeat that.”  

The pilots started speaking at the same time again, still not realized who the other was.  

“One at a time,” The lady squeaked.  

“Apologies,” Arthur said laying his accent on thick to calm her, “Flight 782. Checking in. The plane needs refueling.” The lady nodded and typed in the notes on her computer. Arthur didn’t see the other pilot’s head snap up when he spoke.  

“And you sir,” the other desk person asked.  

“Uh, Flight 29. Checking in. Refuel might be needed. The left engine sounded a little off to me, but I could be paranoid.” Alfred was distracted and his voice sounded far away. His heart was pounding and he was scared to actually look at the British Airways pilot next to him.  

“Name?” The desk people asked together. One at a time, still not looking at each other, they answered.  

“Alfred Jones, American Airlines.”  

“Arthur Kirkland, British Airways.”  

The desk personnel nodded and turned back to her computer. The two pilots finally turned to one another.  

“Finally,” Alfred breathed out, “Finally, I get to see you again.”  

* * *

 They ended up at a random cafe on a random street corner. Alfred had coffee and Arthur had some tea. They were outside at a table off to the side, away from other patrons. Alfred was looking at the people walking by and Arthur had fixed his gaze into his tea. Every so often Alfred would look over at Arthur and turn back and Arthur would look up at Alfred and look back down. Arthur sighed loudly and looked up at Alfred. He was met with bright blue eyes that seemed distracted.  

“So, here we are, back in Naples,” Arthur drawled.  

“Yeah,” Alfred said quietly. He shook his head and brought his gaze back to Arthur’s brilliant emerald eyes. “I’m here for a few days. Supposed to fly a plane to Las Vegas, but since I just flew a long flight, American Airlines decided to give me some time off. So I’m here. You?”  

“I’m here for two days. British Airways has had me going for the past month. This is the first time I’ve actually stepped out of an airport. Nice to see the sun again, from a view that isn’t thousands of feet in the air,” Arthur laughed. He noticed a look on Alfred’s face that he hadn’t seen before, a look of fondness. “What’s that look for?” he asked trying to not sound too harsh.  

“You,” Alfred said softly, “I’ve missed you so much Arthur. I wasn’t sure how I was going to react when I saw you again after that text. Part of me wanted to hang onto the fact that it took you so long to find it. Part of me wanted to steal a plane and go to you. But most of me was afraid of finally seeing you again, face to face. Ironic that we’re here now, in Naples.”  

Arthur was at a loss for words. The normally loud, obnoxious, sometimes annoying American Airlines pilot was sincere in his words and had shown his hand to Arthur. What happened next would change everything, the ball was in Arthur’s court.  

“I,” he sighed, “I missed you too. I had hoped to see you sooner but it seemed that every time I would come closer to where you were, fate just whisked you away. There was one moment where we were in the same place at the same time, but on opposite ends of the airport. I suppose it is ironic that we’ve met again in Naples, but at the same time, I think it fitting.” Arthur had moved closer to Alfred while he spoke and now sat inches from Alfred.  

Alfred thought for a moment, “Poetic. The beginning is the end, everything comes full circle. The question is, what happens now.”  

"This," Arthur said standing and leaning in. He captured Alfred's lips in a kiss before Alfred realized what was happing. Alfred's mind quickly caught up and got with the program. Without breaking apart, Alfred stood and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and took control of the kiss. They stayed there on that random street corner in Naples, wrapped up and focused only on one another.  

 

Layovers, they weren't that bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by a piece of artwork I found via Google. I have no idea who drew this work, but I followed things back to a website that I think the work originated. https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=manga&illust_id=30657750
> 
> Much time was spent googling airlines and airports and which airlines flew into which airports. I did quite a bit of guess work about the life of a pilot. A lot of my assumptions are based off my own observations of the going ons around me while waiting for my own flights. 
> 
> Overall I had so much fun working on this and hope you, dear reader, love it as much as I do.


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